


Two First Names and an Ampersand

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Just a collection of unrelated Barisi-Centric drabbles, generally from tumblr prompts.





	1. Federal Taxation

It was an early Sunday morning, not even six am, and golden rays had just begun to peek through the navy blue satin curtains of Rafael’s bedroom. There was a sort of quiet stillness to the room, no threat of a phone call, or an alarm to rouse them from the bed, only the sound of cars passing on the street, some thirty floors below. It was unusual, for both Sonny and Rafael to have a whole weekend off, even more unusual for it to be the same weekend, and they had intended to savor it.

Rafael’s head was resting on Sonny’s bare chest, gently rising and falling with each breath, and he could hear the deep reverberating sound of his heart beating, steady and strong. Sonny’s hands were twisting in Rafael’s dark waves gently, leisurely. They were both awake, but had no incentive to move. They had the whole day ahead of them and no plans to speak of. Yesterday had been errands, catching up on all the things that ended up cast aside when their work schedules got busy. But Sunday’s, Sunday’s were for late breakfasts and lazing around the apartment in pajamas.

“Hey Rafi?” Sonny’s voice was low, husky from a good night’s sleep.

“Yeah?” Rafael questioned, not even bothering to move his head, just let his fingers graze Sonny’s skin, down his side, eliciting a shiver.

“If you could have gone into any sort of law besides criminal, what would you have practiced?”

Rafael raised his head just enough to look at Sonny with a raised eyebrow. “You considering a new career?”

Sonny laughed, and Rafael could feel it resonating in his stomach. “I mean, not really. But I’ve thought about it.”

“I liked employment law, in law school.” Rafael settled his head back down on Sonny’s chest. “I think I could have been a crusader for employee rights.” He added with a laugh.

“I bet you liked all of your classes,” Sonny teased. “Nothing in the world that Rafael Barba couldn’t handle.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “I hated Fed Tax.” The words slid off his tongue with disdain. “I didn’t understand it, I still hate it, I pay people to do my taxes still.”

Sonny chucked, “I liked it, I thought it was one of the easiest classes I took. All straightforward, it’s just statutes and regulations.”

Rafael sat up, his eyes narrowed at Sonny. “Liar.”

Sonny laughed again, “what’s that, you can’t believe that I’m better than you at something?”

“Hmph,” was Rafael’s only response as he stood up, pulling on his silk robe one arm at a time.

“Aw Rafi don’t be like that,” Sonny called as Rafael walked out into the hall.

“Breakfast, I don’t want to talk about tax anymore.” Rafael called back en route to the kitchen.

Sonny laughed, pulling the blanket off the bed to wrap it around his shoulders, following after him, “the great Rafael Barba, defeated by taxes.”


	2. Potential

The first time Rafael invites Sonny back to his apartment, its under the guise of helping him study for the bar. “I still have all of my notes and flashcards,” he says casually as they sit across the table from each other. “Not everything would be relevant of course.”

“Because you took the bar sitting next to Teddy Roosevelt?” Sonny cuts in with a grin, earning an eye roll from the attorney.

“Yeah he cheated off me.” Rafael bites back without missing a beat, and Sonny throws his head back with a hearty laugh and that little crinkle around his eyes and Rafael can’t help himself. “These chairs are killing my back anyway, let’s go grab a couple coffees and we can keep going over this at my apartment.” He acts like its no big deal. It really shouldn’t be. Maybe they’re not close friends at this point, but Sonny has been working with him for years now, shadowing him for months now, they’ve been studying non-stop for weeks now.

“Yeah?” Sonny’s face doesn’t give him away, but his voice does, he’s surprised, that Rafael is willing to open up a bit of his private life and let Sonny into it. Rafael, who shares no more personal information than necessary. Rafael, who somehow managed to keep silent for months after his grandmother died. Rafael, who never let on that he and Rita were friends, much less that he had dated her in law school. Sonny’s been curating these little notes of course, filing away this information that’s never gleaned from Rafael, but rather the people around him. Rafael’s opening up a whole new can of worms, and yeah, Sonny’s surprised.

But Rafael just rolls his eyes, and doesn’t dignify Sonny’s question with a response. Instead he starts piling the spread of paper into piles, and Sonny does the same. They don’t say anything else as they pack up and leave the conference room, they stop at the coffee cart just outside of the building, and Rafael orders for both of them, handing a hot cup of coffee to Sonny, just the way he likes it.

They’ve been studying together for weeks now, but Sonny can’t figure out when exactly Rafael memorized the way he takes his coffee. He wonders if it means that Rafael has been filing away little mental notes about him too.

They take an Uber to Rafael’s apartment building, and the attorney doesn’t let up the whole way, asking Sonny about legal issues, about sections of the Restatement of Torts, about the Penal Law. Sonny struggles through some, but he remembers more than he forgets, and thirty minutes later they arrive at a tall, ornate building.

Sonny thinks its fitting. Rafael isn’t an ordinary person, he has the sort of tact and class that transcends a particular moment in time. They take the elevator up a dozen floors, and Sonny notices how everyone who sees Rafael in the building says hello; he wonders if Rafael is nicer here, more casual, less adversarial, he wonders if he’s the kind of neighbor people trust with keys, or to water their plants. It’s a weird thought, imaging the attorney as anything less than shrouded with an air of arrogance and hostility. Sonny knows he’s not like that underneath, has seen the cracks in his armor, knows that there’s a deeply passionate and empathetic being underneath the hard exterior. He wonders if maybe the building is a shell too, if Rafael gets to be different here.

He doesn’t say anything as Rafael leads him through a solid oak door, into a spacious apartment. Sonny’s not sure what he expected, maybe the dignified cherry wood paneling so typical of lawyer’s offices, maybe a Victorian sort of elegance. But its open, and modern, comfortable, and so undeniably lived in.

Whatever he had thought about the attorney, he imagined him as an obsessively tidy person, the sort of person who fluffed couch cushions after standing up, who never left dishes in the sink, never left mail on the counter.

But the apartment is lived in, the pillows on the couch are mussed, and there’s a couple blankets strewn about. Stacks of books sit on the coffee table, and the end table, some with bookmarks, some still spread open, seems splitting. There’s a half full mug of cold coffee, and pictures of who Sonny assumes are his mother and grandmother on the mantel over the fireplace.

“Sorry about the mess,” Rafael shrugs his shoulders, like he really doesn’t care that much, and its certainly not dirty or anything. And as much as it takes Sonny by surprise, it makes sense. He doesn’t know why he always assumes Rafael is somewhat inhuman, too perfect, to presentable, too poised to be real, but this is grounding, this is what Rafael is like when there’s no one around to see, and no one around to judge. They both settle into the couch, on opposite sides after Rafael collects a pile of folders and note cards from a filing cabinet. Rafael looks so much more relaxed, the stress normally tightened on his face has dissolved into something close to a smile.

And Sonny had been pretty sure before that he wanted to get to know Rafael better, but he knows now that if he gets to know Rafael any better, he’s going to fall in love with him.


	3. His Dark Materials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crack!Soulmate drabble roughly based off the His Dark Materials series.

Rafael Barba knows he has a soulmate. Everyone does. Or at least, he’s never actually heard of anyone not having a soulmate. But existing in the world and existing in your life are two distinctly different situations, and so far Rafael knows he hasn’t crossed paths with his soulmate. 

Its not something that you’re guaranteed to notice, there’s no moment of bright light, time doesn’t freeze, no flood of emotions, according to everyone he’s ever talked to. He asks a lot of people, because he’s 45 and has never so much as glanced at any sort of human being with an inclination that they could be made for each other. 

But they say that really, the sign is just between daemons, seeing and acknowledging and loving each other before you even have a chance to interact. Which, Rafael supposes, makes sense since daemons are supposed to be sort of physical manifestations of the soul. His settled into a dark tabby cat form when he was only twelve, though really everyone always said that daemons didn’t really settle until adulthood. 

But she is a raging bitch of a little cat, always has her claws out, is always ready to swipe at anyone who got close enough. Its helpful in a way, because she doesn’t let people get close enough to him, but his job still requires with meeting new people every day and her hostility is more than a mild inconvenience when he’s trying to sooth terrified witnesses. She never drifts very far from his side, something that was also supposed to be able to change when he got older, but the moment she’s out of sight, they’re both in excruciating pain, not physical pain of course, but the sort of pain you can feel wrapped up in your stomach, and in your soul. 

The first daemon she ever seems to tolerate is Olivia’s, a large and commanding tiger, all sinew and muscle. Rafael wonders if its because they both settled into feline forms, if there’s some sort of connection there. But Aleja, the little bitch of a cat, unwilling to admit her own size, still swipes at the tiger when he gets too close for comfort. 

The first time Rafael meets Sonny Carisi, his daemon precedes him by a few yards, a huge golden retriever barreling at him and Aleja at high speed, and Rafael braces himself for the scuffle that will undoubtedly ensue. 

“Alessa,” the man calls from under a god awful mustache, apparently no control over his own daemon. “Hold on!” Rafael waits for the hissing, waits for the claws to come out, and he can see how uncomfortable the little cat looks, but she just bristles, and sits on her haunches looking moody. And Rafael turns to look at the lanky detective in front of him, out of breath from chasing after the dog, hair slightly mussed. 

“She just took off running, I’m sorry, I don’t even know what’s going on…” he trailed off apologetically, watching the golden retriever flop unceremoniously on the floor in front of Aleja. 

“You…” Rafael can’t help but breathe out, because he’s sure now. Aleja just circles the golden retriever suspiciously before settling back down on her haunches, close enough to the dog that her fur ruffles with each exhale of its breath. 

“Sorry, I’m Sonny, Carisi. That must be why she took off running,” the man’s eyes widen. “I didn’t think happened like that, but she spotted your daemon and just,” he shrugged, and Rafael wouldn’t have normally found such an unsightly mustache so endearing, but he can’t help himself. 

“Rafael,” He nods, “Aleja has never gotten that close to anyone before…” Rafael still sort of can’t believe it, like he’s being punched in the gut with 45 years of pent up emotion, and he can feel his breath shorten, quicken like he’s struggling for air. The detective reaches a hand out, lets it rest on Rafael’s shoulder gently. Its an innocent gesture, from anyone else it wouldn’t mean much, but it tells Rafael everything he needs to know.


	4. The Following

Time doesn’t mean much to Rafael Barba, if anything, it’s a minor inconvenience. Though, he supposes, that’s only natural when you’re not bound by its rules the way most humans are. He’s been able to see it as long as he could remember, like a rippling fabric right in front of him that he could bend and shape and manipulate as easily as walking, but he’s never met anyone else who could.

He doesn’t think people are dumb, or stupid, or anything like that, they’re just dreadfully unobservant, and he’s convinced that if people could just open their eyes, really open them, then maybe time wouldn’t be such a stubborn mistress in their lives.

But as it is, he appreciates his secret. It means that when the clock seems to be ticking on a case, he can back up, drag himself back in time to go over his notes, or prepare for a case. It means when one of the detectives blow up his case, he can give them time to recover, he can take a few steps in the opposite direction, curl the fabric and undo mistakes.

It means, when he’s had a little too much to drink one night at Forlini’s, and Detective Sonny Carisi shows up with bright blue eyes and dimples that make his heart ache, and he lets an “I love you,” slip out of his mouth, that he can take it back. Without waiting for a response he can slip neatly back to a time, five hours ago where he didn’t get drunk and didn’t tell a coworker about the feelings he’d been fighting since day one.

Or at least, he thought he’d be able to, and he’s sitting at his desk in his office and the sun is still shining through his drawn curtains so he knows that its earlier than it was before, but Sonny Carisi is standing across the desk from him with a look on his face that Rafael can’t read.

“Can I help you with something?” He rolls his eyes at the detective.

“You love me?” Rafael mentally scrambles, he looks at the watch on his wrist, just to make sure, but it is.

He panics, he doesn’t know what it means, maybe he was a little too close, maybe he had managed to pull Carisi along with him, so he does what he does best, and slips away into time again, five years ago, in the Brooklyn DA’s office, before he ever met the Italian detective who made his cheeks flush and heart race. This place was home for a while, its comfortable and familiar and he can hide here until he figures out when to go forward again, and fix the mistakes that he’s made.

“Stop running away.” Rafael looks up from his metal desk in the middle of the Brooklyn office with wide eyes, because he knows that voice, knows that accent all too well and it doesn’t belong here. But there he is, Sonny Carisi in all his glory, chest rising and falling like he had been running to catch up.

“What? What are you doing here?” Rafael doesn’t understand. This isn’t the way time works, not for him.

“You can’t tell me you love me and then just slip away,” Sonny takes a step forward. “You think I wouldn’t follow you, Rafael?”

Rafael has never in his life, never in any amount of time or place been rendered speechless, but he cannot find the words to respond, just swallows hard as Sonny pulls him out of the desk chair, hands firmly grasping at his hips, pulling their bodies flush.

“I didn’t know you could…” Rafael replies slowly, carefully, because he never really understood it himself.

“A hundred lives, a thousand years, you have to know by know that I’d follow you anywhere,” Sonny replies earnestly.

And Rafael might not know how time works, but when Sonny pulls him into a kiss, he knows that he never wants this moment in time to end.


	5. Undercover

“I need more, Olivia, you know I want to put this guy away just as much as you do, but I can’t get a jury to convict with what we have,” Rafael grimaces, sitting on the couch in the Lieutenant’s office, a take out container of Thai food in one hand, chopsticks in the other. They’ve been working on the same case for going on two weeks now, some asshole targeting male prostitutes, leaving them for dead on the side of the road, and while all of the victims could identify him, Rafael knows how little the word of working men means, and they’ve got nothing else to tie him to the crimes.

“I know, we’re trying, Rollins and Carisi are working out a plan, we’re sending Carisi undercover,” she nods, and Rafael takes another messy bite of his pad Thai noodles, trying to hide the flush spreading over the bridge of his nose, hoping that Olivia will assume its from the spicy heat of his food rather than the images his head is conjuring.

He wants to ask if its safe, wants to make sure that Sonny isn’t putting himself in some sort of dangerous situation, but he knows he can’t, because that would certainly raise suspicion, and anyway its part of the job. He knows that Liv wouldn’t send one of her squad undercover if she didn’t think they had control of the situation.

He doesn’t have a chance to figure out how to answer anyway, because there’s a knock on the glass of her office door. “Come on in,” she calls after swallowing a mouth full of curry. The door swings open and Carisi steps into the room, still hovering in the door way. It takes Rafael just a half second to register that it’s even Carisi standing there in the first place, because he’s wearing tight jean shorts that cut off just above mid-thigh, straining around the bulge of his quads, and he’s got on a tight long sleeve black shirt, sinfully cut off half way up his torso, leaving the sinewy planes of his stomach exposed. And yeah, Rafael has seen it all before, has touched and caressed and worshipped every inch of the detective, but not here, in Olivia’s office, in front of the whole world.

He can feel the heat in his cheeks spreading outwards, to his ears and his neck and there’s no god damn way Olivia isn’t going to notice, because his throat is dry and he cannot tear his eyes away long enough to form a snarky quip.

“Well, you’re certainly fit for the roll,” Olivia teases, setting down her own chopsticks.

Sonny laughs, not a hint of embarrassment on his face, like he isn’t standing in his boss’s office with more skin exposed than clothed. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re heading out, Lieu, Amanda and Fin have the van ready to go.” Sonny turns to Rafael, like he’s only just noticed the ADA sitting there on the couch, “we’ll get you what you need for a conviction, Counselor.” Sonny grins and Rafael hates him in that moment, hates how calm and collected and totally normal he seems.

Rafael lets out something more closely resembling a squeak than a word in the English language, and then clears his throat, the blush on his cheeks darkening noticeably. “Just make sure I don’t have to convince any coworkers to drop solicitation charges.” He rolls his eyes, and he’s trying to be snarky but he internally grimaces at how much it sounds like a jealousy tinged warning.

Sonny laughs though, and heads out into the bullpen, and Rafael can’t help but watch him go, mesmerized by the way those jean shorts hug the curve of his ass. When Sonny is out of sight, he turns back to Olivia only to find her staring at him, face unreadable.

Fuck. 

“You…” She starts slowly, “and Carisi…”

Rafael is pretty certain his face is roughly the color of an apple, and he busies himself with picking a bean sprout out of his pad Thai. “What about Carisi?” he tries to play it off, but he knows its too late, she’s not just a detective, she’s known him for the last seven years.

“How long?”

“How long what?” He’s certainly not going to make it easy for her.

“How long have you been seeing each other,” she’s pointing her chopsticks at him, and her tone is accusing but she’s got a grin on her face. Rafael thinks maybe it could have been a comforting smile if he didn’t know her so well, didn’t know how feral of a smile it was. 

“About six months,” he finally sighs, setting his take out container on her coffee table.

“I wouldn’t have pegged Carisi as your type,” she laughs with a self-satisfied smirk. “Would have thought you’d be more into the James Bond or Humphrey Bogart types.”

Rafael cranes his neck, glancing out Olivia’s window into the bullpen to see if he can catch another glimpse, “I mean, did you see him just now?” he looks back, still flushed but a smirk on his face.


	6. She Used to be Mine

It was nearly four in the morning, near full moon casting long shadows on the pavement when Sonny Carisi finally made his way home. To say it was a rough day would have been an understatement, after everything that had happened at the hospital, and everything that had happened after when he got dragged away for a case. 

He rubbed the palm of his hands against his eyes as he waited for the elevator doors to open and carry him up ten flights to the home he shared with his husband, the home they were supposed to have shared with another. He shook his head, there was no sense dwelling, they’d pick up the pieces and move on. He trusted God’s plan for them, knew he wouldn’t throw anything at them that they couldn’t handle.

Maybe it was for the best, he figured, stepping into the elevator, catching his hand on the wall to steady himself as his weary body threatened to sag. Rafael had been so hesitant, so nervous, and he had insisted to Sonny that he wasn’t getting any younger, that now was the time, but Sonny wasn’t sure he really meant it, wasn’t sure that Rafael wasn’t just saying that because he knew how much Sonny wanted it. This would give them more time, give Rafael more time.

When he stepped into the apartment, it was dark, Rafael’s shoes lined up neatly in the rack, his coat hanging from a hook on the wall. Good, it meant that Rafael had made it home from the hospital in one piece, had decided not to go into the office to work out his frustration. Sonny was glad, because he wanted nothing more than to pull off his belt and tie and fall into bed. He kicked off his shoes, not bothering to put them away, and cast his tie over the arm of a chair. He’d worry about it later, deal with Rafael’s annoyance in the morning. He moved softly, quietly, he had figured out years ago which spots to avoid in the living room to avoid the creaks and groans of floorboards. At this late hour, he was sure Rafael had fallen asleep, probably still half sitting up in bed, a book across his lap, reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

He pushed the bedroom door open slowly, the shrill creak of hinges felt like it was as loud as a gunshot, but even in the low light he could see that the bed was empty, still made. He cast a glance to the bathroom, but the door was still open, light off, no Rafael.

Sonny swallowed hard and took a few steps back, wondering if he had missed the sight of Rafael at his desk, through the glass pane of the French doors that led into the office they technically shared, but was really more Rafael’s. Still nothing. He could feel the sinking in his gut, the kitchen lights were off, not even the glow of refrigerator lights, so there was really only one place left he could be.

He walked down the hall slowly, treading as lightly as he could before he pushed open the door at the end of the hall. The blinds over the windows had been pulled open, and the light of the moon and the neon glow of the city illuminated enough for Sonny to see Rafael sitting in a rocking chair, hands twisting in the soft fur of a stuffed rabbit, gaze held steady out the window. Sonny couldn’t see his eyes from the doorway, but he could tell he was still awake, his breath hadn’t softened to the low hum, just shy of a snore that Rafael always got when he fell asleep sitting up.

“Rafi,” Sonny whispered into the room, not wanting to startle him. “What are you doing in here?” He couldn’t bring himself to look around the room, pastel green, decorated with little woodland creatures, a white wooden crib in the corner. They had spent hours in this room, putting everything together, arguing about each little detail, Rafael insisting that Sonny had poor taste, giddy with excitement.

“I wasn’t sure I really wanted a child,” Rafael started slowly, and his gaze didn’t leave the window but his voice was hoarse, raspy, and Sonny could tell that he had been crying, could see the almost dried trails on his cheeks, catching in the moonlight. “But that doctor put her in my arms, and we got to hold her for two hours,” his voice cracked and he turned to look at Sonny. “She was supposed to be ours.”

Sonny had been struggling to hold it together, struggling to bite back the disappointment, that feeling of loss, but the look in Rafael’s eyes, dark green, pooling with tears again that were threatening to fall, Sonny felt all of it wash over him at once, a tidal wave crashing over him so hard he couldn’t quite tell which way was up.

He crossed the room slowly and sank to his knees in front of Rafael. “We knew this was a possibility,” he sighed heavily, reaching for Rafael’s hand. “We talked about it when we decided to choose adoption instead of surrogacy.” He knew it wouldn’t help sooth the burning loss. “She was ours, for two hours and twenty-six minutes,” he nodded, “and we loved her as much as we could, but we knew her mother might change her mind.” He had to fight to keep his own voice steady, spoke slowly, bit his lip to keep the tears from falling.

Rafael opened his mouth, and for a moment Sonny thought he had something to say, but instead, he let out a little sob, unable to hold back the tears any longer. Sonny untangled their hands and wrapped his fingers behind Rafael’s calves, coaxing him out of the rocking chair. His back hit the wall, and he pulled the smaller man into his lap, tucking his chin into soft, clean curls. “It just wasn’t meant to be, Rafi,” he murmured, wrapping his arms a little tighter. “God has another plan for us.”


	7. New Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: New Rules by Dua Lipa.

1\. He leaned back in his desk chair, stretching to ease the ache that had settled into his body over the last few hours as the station had emptied around him still hunched over his paperwork. The lieutenant had clocked out half an hour earlier than usual, rushing home to relieve Lucy of her babysitting duties, and Rollins had followed soon after. Fin had a dinner with Ken and had disappeared around eight, but Sonny had no where to go, no one to rush home to, no night classes to keep him busy, no bar to study for.

So he stayed, pulling files off of Amanda’s desk to help her catch up because he had finished his own hours ago. Going home meant being alone. Going home meant facing the fact that he had no one, not since he and Rafael had broken off… whatever it had been nearly a year ago. Well, since Rafael had broken it off, with some lame excuse that they didn’t want the same things, that it wasn’t going to go anywhere.

His phone vibrated, skittering across his desk, facedown. He flipped it over, thumb moving to answer the call on instinct, but he hesitated, hovering when his eyes caught the caller ID. He checked his watch. 2:56 AM. He knew what it meant. Knew that Rafael was sitting alone in a bar somewhere, four or five glasses of scotch in, knew that it meant that Rafael had decided there was no one there worth his time, no one that had caught his discerning eye enough to bother taking home. Sonny knew it meant that Rafael wanted to come over, wanted to put aside the past for a few, short feverous hours.

He knew because they had played this game before, and Sonny didn’t know how to say no. Couldn’t bring himself to pull away completely, because as much as it hurt to know that those brief, pyretic moments were all they’d ever have together, they consumed him. Washed over him, drowning out the past, and the future, and all he could fathom was the feeling of Rafael’s skin, slick and burning against his.

_Don’t answer._ “Rafael?”

2\. It was just past midnight, and Sonny wouldn’t have normally ended up home so early, except for the fact that they had caught a case a few days earlier, and he was going on the nineteenth hour of his shift when the Lieutenant had instructed, in no uncertain terms, that catching a few hours of shut eye in the bunk room wasn’t enough, that he needed to go home and take an actual break.

He had taken a much needed shower, scalding hot enough to turn his pale skin bright pink, letting it sooth straining muscles and aching joints. But his hair had dried, as he sat on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, only the glow of the TV illuminating the small room. He couldn’t bring himself to go to bed this early, even as exhausted as he felt, that certain insomnia that had been plaguing him for a year and four months almost to the day, it meant that he couldn’t sleep, not until his body had been pushed to it’s exact limit, only then letting himself fall into bed, and fall asleep immediately. Because if he laid down any earlier than that, it would mean confronting the reality that the other half of his bed was empty, that someone had been there, for a while, and not just anyone, but him.

There was a knock at the door, and Sonny froze. Another knock. He craned his neck to look at the clock. Amanda was still at the station, last he had heard, and she would have called. His sister had a key, never bothered knocking. He knew who it was even before a voice called through the door.

“Sonny.”

He was drunk. Of course he was, because why else would he be there, at Sonny’s door at 12:32 AM. They didn’t talk sober anymore, unless they were fighting, and even then it was only ever about cases. There was another knock, louder this time. “I know you’re in there, let me in.” Sonny rubbed a hand over his eyes, and stood up, walking to his kitchen, instead of the door.

_Don’t let him in._ He reached for the whiskey bottle sitting on the counter and unscrewed the top slowly. They’d been doing this for too long. The drunken late night encounters, blistering but temporary, falling back to their icy distance come morning. Sonny didn’t want that. Didn’t want temporary.

_Don’t let him in._ He took a long, searing drink from the bottle before opening the door.

3\. It had been a hard case, for everybody, long and exhausting. And it had looked like a win when they sat in the courtroom, and the jury had read out a guilty verdict. But then they had all watched in horror as the defense attorney stood, requesting a judgment notwithstanding the verdict, and the judge had granted the motion, and Sonny had watched the fury bubbling up under Rafael’s normally collected exterior.

He didn’t say anything, couldn’t bring himself to reach out and sooth the stinging loss, as much as he wanted to, because he knew Rafael would just bite back a cruel comment about how Sonny’s opinion didn’t matter, how he had chosen to be “just a detective” how he had only gone to Fordham.

He hadn’t expected the text, at one AM. The desperate and pleading “can you come over.” Sonny wanted to say no. Wanted to turn his read receipts on and leave it at that, without a reply. How could they be friends after everything? How could he still be the person that Rafael turned to? But he knew that Rafael was in pain, that he never took his losses well, and that this one had been particularly painful. 

_Don’t be his friend._

But friend was better than nothing, wasn’t it? And so he sighed, and reached for his coat as he messaged back with one hand, “be there in twenty.”


	8. Soundless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sonny is rendered deaf after an altercation with a perp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me caveat this and say that I am not deaf, and I cannot speak for the experiences of deaf people, however I am hard of hearing, and have a degenerative condition which will probably result in full hearing loss. This piece is, therefore, informed by my own fears/experiences, not the experiences of the Deaf community.

His eyes fluttered open, black fading to a blinding white, and he winced, trying to adjust, trying to figure out where he was. He turned his head but was only met with searing pain, and he reached up to bring his hand to his forehead. An IV was taped to his hand, line leading out of sight. Hospital. How had he ended up there? 

The blurry edges of his vision started to come into focus, and he could see a familiar face hovering above him. Rafael. Like an angel floating above him. “Rafi?” He knew he had spoken, could feel the words forming in his throat, falling off his tongue. But it sounded distant, far away, like he had been talking under water. 

He could feel Rafael’s hand on his face, the worried look, could see his mouth moving, but there was nothing. No sound, no voice, like someone had pressed the mute button. Panic spread across his face. “Rafi?” He said again, could feel it, vibrating in his jaw. 

He could see concern spread across Rafael’s face. “Rafi I can’t hear anything.” Sonny couldn’t hear the terror in his own voice, but Rafael could, clear as day, and without a word- or maybe he had said something but Sonny couldn’t tell- he stepped out of view, returning moments later with a woman in a white coat, holding scans that Sonny assumed were of his head. 

He pushed himself up in the bed, wincing again at the throbbing pain in his head. “What happened? What’s going on?” He wasn’t sure how they were supposed to answer him, but he couldn’t help but ask. 

Sonny felt a hand on his shoulder, firm but comforting, and he would have recognized the familiar touch anywhere. Rafael. His port in the storm. The doctor handed him a sheet of paper, a few hand written lines. His eyes scanned them over quickly. Head injury from an assault, hearing loss, probably permanent but too soon to tell. 

He could feel tears welling in his eyes, but could see Rafael say something to the doctor before she stepped out of the room, and the ADA turned back to him, perching himself on the edge of Sonny’s bed. He pulled his gold pen out of his pocket, and took the paper out of Sonny’s hands, scribbling down a few words. 

Sonny frowned, waiting for Rafael to hand the paper back to him. In Rafael’s messy scrawl…

You were fighting with a perp, he knocked you out,   
Amanda got there a few moments too late.   
We weren’t sure you were going to wake up at all.

The tears that had been threatening to fall spilled over. “I can’t hear you at all Rafi, I can’t hear anything,” He choked out between heaving sobs. 

Rafael’s gaze softened, and he pulled the paper away from Sonny. He reached up gently, brushing his fingertips over Sonny’s cheek. And he didn’t say anything, and Sonny wouldn’t have been able to hear it anyway, but his look said everything Sonny needed to know. 

That whatever happened, they’d get through it together.


	9. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sonny volunteers him and Rafael to babysit Noah and Jesse for a weekend.

Rafael doesn’t hate children, as much as Sonny likes to tease him about it. He really doesn’t, he actually likes kids, he thinks they’re cute and funny, and he gets a kick out of the sassy little attitude that Jesse has developed. But kids also terrify him, because it says a lot about a person when kids don’t like them. He’d never trust a person who Noah or Jesse didn’t like, because they’re intuitive. 

But they like him for some reason, and the less time he spends with them the easier it is to make sure that doesn’t change. So yeah, he likes to buy them presents, and give them gifts, and he likes to watch the little videos that Liv and Amanda always want him to see. But he doesn’t really want to spend time with them, so when Sonny volunteers them to watch Noah and Jesse for Liv and Amanda’s anniversary weekend, Rafael is miffed. 

“Here? For the entire weekend?” Rafael scoffs from the kitchen table, a plate of toast and coffee in front of him, and he sets down the newspaper he had been reading. “This place isn’t exactly kid friendly, Sonny.” 

But Sonny waves him off with a laugh, and sits down across from him at the table with a huge bowl of some kind of sugary cereal. “Rafi, its just a couple nights. And we’ve both got the weekend off, we don’t even have to spend a lot of time in the apartment, we can take them to the zoo, or the park, or I was reading about this bounce house place in SoHo,” Sonny smiles brightly, and its infectious but Rafael is still skeptical. 

“I don’t really have a say in the matter, do I?” Rafael grumbles before taking a bite of his toast. 

“Not unless you want to be the one to tell Liv that she has to cancel her romantic getaway surprise.” Sonny smirks with a mouth full of Captain Crunch. 

But the first day isn’t really that bad, to Rafael’s surprise. Noah and Jesse are cute kids, and they really do like him and all he has to do is go along with what they say, so he sits on the couch and reads them books that Sonny bought a few days earlier, and Jesse falls asleep with her head on his arm, and Noah tells him how good he is at doing the voices when they read. 

They go to the park, and Sonny drags them all to an Italian bakery and lets them pick out whatever they want, so they spend the rest of the afternoon nursing tummy aches, and Rafael shoots daggers at Sonny every time Jesse whines that she feels sick. But they recover before dinner and Sonny makes lasagna and lets Noah and Jesse help him in the kitchen, despite Rafael’s concern about them standing on chairs at the counter. 

“Relax Rafi, my ma always let me and my sisters help cook,” Sonny waves off his concerns, and Rafael has to admit that it’s pretty cute, Noah and Jesse standing on chairs in oversized aprons, helping Sonny stir a pot of sauce, helping him layer the noodles, watching Sonny teasingly dangle the wet noodles in front of their faces, eliciting adorable giggles. 

They go to bed easily enough, after a few “I’m hungrys” and a few “I have to go to the bathrooms” and Jesse insists on Uncle Rafael helping her brush her teeth. And then Rafael falls into his bed next to Sonny, too exhausted to change out of his khakis and polo. 

“I don’t know how Liv and Amanda do it, working all the time and taking care of those little hellions,” Rafael grumbles against Sonny’s shoulder, but he’s smiling. 

“They were pretty well behaved, Rafi,” Sonny laughs, turning over on his side to look at Rafael. “You sure you couldn’t imagine it? Because I could…” He trails off, but Rafael knows exactly what he’s getting at. Sonny has always wanted kids, and Rafael has always been acutely aware of that. 

“I don’t know how they do it, but I think I could learn,” Rafael admits softly, and he swears he’s never seen Sonny smile so wide.


	10. Heart Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: carisi gets a phone call in the middle of an interrogation bc barba collapsed in court and was rushed to the hospital

Sonny doesn’t answer his phone in the interrogation room. When he’s in there, everything outside sort of just fades away. He’s got a singular focus, singular drive, all determination. He doesn’t even usually bring his phone into the room because he doesn’t need that kind of distraction, and if anyone really needs him, they know to tap on the glass or open the door and pull him out.

But his phone has been vibrating against his thigh for what seems like the last thirty minutes now, and every time the ringtone vibration stops, it starts right back up again. He wonders for a moment if this irritation he’s feeling is how people feel about him, grating, annoying, impossible to ignore.

But he’s trying to stay focused on the suspect in front of him, because there’s a four year old girl on the line, a sweet little four year old with auburn curls and blue eyes who will never be the same. “Carisi, answer your phone,” Amanda finally bites out, because even though his phone is only vibrating, the noise echoes in the small room. “I got this, step out, sounds like it could be an emergency.” She’s as irritated with the sound as he is, so he nods curtly and pulls the offending object out of his pocket as he steps out the door.

“Carisi,” he answers without bothering to check the caller ID, and the voice on the line is one of the last voices he would have expected.

“Sonny?” It’s Rita, but her voice is off, breathless and urgent. “Rafael collapsed in court, he’s being rushed to the hospital, no one is sure what’s going on but I figured someone should tell you and I didn’t think anyone at the DA’s office knew that you two…” she trails off, and Sonny feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the universe, because he can’t breathe, can’t seem to force his lungs to do the thing they’re supposed to be able to without consciousness.

“Which hospital?” He doesn’t care how panicked his voice sounds, doesn’t care how much desperation seeps into his pleading.

Sonny’s not really sure how he gets to the hospital, he certainly didn’t run or walk the whole way, but he has no real recollection of a taxi or a squad car or the train. He’s just moving on autopilot, body propelling itself forward because even when he can’t think he knows he needs to be near Rafael, needs to be able to see him, touch him.

He asks the hospital staff where he can find him, and he panics for an instant at their confusion before he clarifies that he’s looking for Rafael Barba. The elevator button lights up when he jabs at it the first time, but it seems useless because there’s no corresponding ding of the lift arriving, and Sonny doesn’t have the patience to wait so he rushes up the stairs, five flights. And really even in the shape he’s in, that should leave him breathless, but then he never really found his breath in the first place, not after the phone call with Rita.

But when he arrives at the door to Rafael’s room, he can breathe again, a heavy sigh that fills his lungs. Rafael is sitting up in bed, an IV in his arm, a machine monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure, but he’s scowling.

Maybe if it was someone else a scowl might have been concerning, but Sonny knows Rafael well enough to know it means he’s fine. “Oh my god Rafi what happened?” He’s at Rafael’s bed side in an instant, his palm pressed against the slightly sallow cheek.

“Who called you? I told them not to tell you, I’m fine I didn’t want to worry you,” Rafael mutters but reaches up, letting his hand rest on top of Sonny’s.

“Rita called, from the courthouse she said you collapsed.” Sonny’s tone isn’t quite accusing, but he’s definitely skeptical of Rafael’s insistence.

“Of course, she never did know when to mind her own business. I’m fine Sonny, I didn’t eat anything and I was dehydrated and my blood sugar dropped apparently. You know me, a flair for the dramatics of course, but I’m fine.”

Sonny’s mouth hangs open just slightly, and he reaches his other hand up to hold Rafael’s head on either side, shaking it slightly. “Really Rafael? You got me all worked up thinking you had a heart attack from all that caffeine or a brain aneurysm or something but really you’re just incapable of feeding yourself?” His voice is stern but he can’t help but smile, relief flooding every nerve in his body.

“That’s why you should move in with me, I can’t be trusted to feed myself.”

Sonny rolls his eyes dramatically, “really? You thought here in a hospital bed, me nearly having a heart attack from worry would be the best time to ask me to move in with you?”

Rafael just shrugs, and Sonny can’t even be mad.


	11. Boxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: boxing!barisi and barba gets his ass kicked and totally likes it

Everyone assumes that Rafael doesn’t do sports. And in many ways they’re not really wrong. He finds following professional teams a pointless waste of time, and he’s never really been much of a team player himself. Rafael doesn’t trust people enough, values winning too much to enjoy the camaraderie of team sports. But he likes to stay healthy, he runs semi-regularly.

And he likes boxing. Sonny doesn’t believe him when Rafael tells him he’s going to a boxing gym, but Rafael has been going there since he was six. His dad had signed him up, and Rafael knows now that his dad was really just trying to make sure his son didn’t grow up too feminine, because Rafael’s childhood interests were mostly books and musicals and poetry.

But Rafael liked boxing even then. He likes winning, he likes being able to get his pent up aggression out, especially when shit doesn’t go his way at work.

Sonny is in awe the first time he accompanies Rafael to the boxing gym; can’t keep the slack jawed expression off his face as Rafael ducks and dodges, takes hits and delivers them with equal force in the ring, shirtless and covered with a dewy sheen.

“Come on, you’re not just gonna watch, are you?” Rafael teases, a glove tucked under his arm, mouth guard in his hand. Sonny hasn’t been boxing since he was a kid, but he’s had plenty of training from the academy, from his buddies when he was a beat cop, from some of the other detectives. He knows he’s not just going to be able to hold his own against Rafael, but that he can beat him.

But Rafael is competitive and goading, and Sonny knows that he’d be pissed if Sonny went easy on him, so they both end up in the ring, grinning around mouth guards, touching gloves at the instruction of the employee serving as a ref.

Sonny’s a little surprised at how Rafael handles himself. They’re mismatched, and Rafael’s technique is better, is lighter on his feet, manages to dance around Sonny’s first few solid swings. But Sonny has height, and a reach to match, and it’s not long before he lands some heavy blows to Rafael’s sides.

To his credit, Rafael never seems to lose his grin, even after Sonny lands a last final blow to Rafael’s face, and they’ve got protective gear on of course but Sonny knows it must hurt, because Rafael spits out a bit of blood.

“I’m so sorry,” Sonny’s stomach twists in knots as they change in the locker room, because he can see the purple bruises settling under Rafael’s skin, more than he had anticipated, because instinct sort of takes over in the ring anyway.

“Don’t be,” Rafael’s still grinning like the cat that are the canary, and Sonny wonders if maybe he’s got some masochistic tendencies deep down. “I had fun,” he adds, dropping a kiss on Sonny’s cheek before heading for the shower.


	12. Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: perhaps John Buchanan sexually harassing Sonny or Barba? Pick up lines, unwanted touching taunting if he knows about their relationship. Maybe trying to blackmail one of them but neither of them are ones to take it lying down as it were.

Sonny doesn’t like to make waves, he never has. He grew up with three sisters, two of whom were the biggest drama queens he ever met, and Bella wasn’t exactly passive, so he had learned to let things go, to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

He unlearned some of it at the academy, learned how to be a cop which demanded a certain amount of aggressive authority, but he’s really only ever that way with suspects. With his coworkers, he tries to do his best, but he also acquiesces. He lets Rollins order him around, let Amaro bully him, takes the quips from Barba in stride because he doesn’t like to get upset about things.

It’s why he doesn’t say anything when Buchanan gets too close to him at the meetings he tags along to, why he doesn’t assert himself when Buchanan’s hand grazes his lower back when they leave the courtroom. Because it’s not obvious, because it could so easily have been an accident, a mistake, because he could be misreading, and Sonny doesn’t like to make waves.

But then it is obvious, Buchanan’s comments become more overtly inappropriate, only ever when Barba steps out of the room, and there’s no mistaking intentions when Buchanan pushes through him into the courtroom, his hand cupping Sonny through his pants for just the briefest moment.

Sonny doesn’t want to make waves but he also doesn’t want to let it go. He knows that if he mentions it to Oliva, it’ll blow up, because Olivia is a crusader for justice and Sonny appreciates that mostly, but he doesn’t want this to be a big thing.

So when he’s sitting in Barba’s office one late night, he decides to ask. “Has Buchanan ever been… Weird with you?” For an SVU detective of four years he should be able to talk about this more easily, but he’s struggling to find the words.

Rafael gives him an inquisitive look, “what do you mean, Sonny?” They’ve been together for four months now but Sonny’s heart still swells whenever Rafael uses his first name. And it makes him feel more comfortable, Rafael is the person he’s supposed to be able to tell these things to.

“Has he been… Inappropriate with you?” Sonny turns his gaze away, can’t meet Rafael’s eye.

That tells Rafael everything he needs to know. “No, but I take it he has with you…” He trails off. “What did he do, Sonny?”

Sonny shakes his head, “it’s not a big deal, I didn’t want to cause a scene. He’s just, said a few things, gotten a little… handsy.” He frowns.

Rafael keeps a straight face, his eyes calm, body poised. Sonny knows it’s a bad sign, and he’s right, because it’s only a day later when they’re walking in the courthouse on their way to arraignment when Rafael spots Buchanan.

Rafael isn’t a tall man, and his broad shoulders are only broad relative to his height, but he has such a presence, such ferocity that he has Buchanan backed into a corner before Sonny can even blink, and his voice is unnervingly steady, “you so much as look at him, John, so much as look his way and I swear to god you’ll find out what it means cross a Cuban from the South Bronx.”

Buchanan’s eyes widen with something Rafael recognizes as fear, and he doesn’t give the large man a chance to reply before he backs away, checking the gelled curl of his hair, straightening his suit and tie, and he keeps walking, Sonny has to jog a little to catch up. His face is flushed with embarrassment, because he doesn’t like to make waves, and a scene in the courthouse, that makes waves.

“Why’d you do that, Rafael?” Sonny’s voice is gruff, his accent thick.

“Nobody gets to get away with treating you like that, especially not him,” Rafael replies simply. Because Sonny might not like to make waves, but Rafael’s willing to do whatever he has to.


	13. Say It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt - Carisi notices that Barba doesn't really say "I love you" to him and is sad, but then realises that Barba does a lot of sweet little things like leaving a chocolate on his pillow when he comes home after Barba's already in bed, and Carisi realises that's Barba's way of saying it.

Sonny Carisi would shout it from the rooftops if he ever found himself with the opportunity. Its been true since the first time he laid eyes on the assistant district attorney his first week at SVU. He loves Rafael Barba. Irrevocably, unconditionally. Really he had to catch himself when they first started dating, because the words were always threatening to spill out of his mouth, when Rafael would crack a soft smile, or bite out a sarcastic comment, Sonny wanted to tell him. But Sonny also knew that it was generally socially unacceptable to proclaim undying love for someone after the second date, so he bit his tongue.

Sonny managed to wait a whole three months before he finally let it slip out of his mouth one quiet Sunday morning, still laying in bed together in a hazy tangle of silk sheets and sunrise. He said it so softly that he wasn’t sure if Rafael really heard it, wasn’t sure if that soft smile that grazed his lips was because of the bliss of the moment, or the words he had finally allowed himself to say, but either way, Rafael let the silence hang there.

Sonny wasn’t too concerned then, because he didn’t expect Rafael to say it back. Sonny knew he had a tendency to fall fast, to fall hard, and he had been in love with Rafael before they had even shared one of their typical snarky exchanges. He didn’t expect Rafael to love him yet. 

But a year had passed, and Sonny said it over and over again, without reservation, without a care. Every time he hung up the phone, every time they parted ways, every time they turned the lights off to go to sleep. 

I love you.

I love you. 

I love you.

He didn’t want to pressure Rafael, didn’t want him to say it before he was ready. 

But that was three years ago, and Sonny can’t think of a time when Rafael had ever said it, can’t think of a time it even seemed like he was going to. Rafael, who has always had a way with words. Rafael, who never says anything he doesn’t mean. Sonny wonders if it means that Rafael doesn’t actually love him, wonders if they’ve been coasting along so one sided for all of this time. 

The thoughts twist his stomach in knots, even though he knows he should be more upset about the suspect he had been forced to shoot earlier that day, the suspect who’s blood he had to wash off in their shower. But he had a brush with death, and all he can think about is how he’s not sure Rafael really loves him.

The door swings open while Sonny’s sitting on their couch, trying to watch some crappy tv show to distract him from the thoughts plaguing his psyche. And in walks Rafael, in all of his dapper glory, dropping his briefcase on the arm chair. Sonny realizes he has a box in hand, tied with white string. He recognizes it immediately, from his favorite little bakery in Staten Island.

“Hey,” Sonny smiles from the couch. “How was work?”

Rafael shrugs out of his coat and walks over to the couch, dropping a kiss on Sonny’s cheek, placing the box in his lap. “Olivia called me, told me what happened.” He declines to answer Sonny’s question. “Are you okay?”

Sonny looks down at the box, pulling the string off slowly, but he can already smell what’s inside, his favorite cannoli. “I’m fine, gonna see the head doctor tomorrow. Are these from Salvatore’s?” He asks but he already knows the answer. 

“I stopped on my way home from work.” Rafael shrugs, pushing Sonny’s long legs out of the way so he can settle onto the couch next to him.

“Staten Island isn’t on the way home from Manhattan,” Sonny says teasingly, but he can feel a warmth blossoming in his chest.

“I got out a little early,” he shrugs, sliding the remote away from Sonny’s lap in one quick movement, a satisfied smirk as he flips the channel to the news.

And that’s when it hits Sonny. Because maybe those three words have never graced Rafael’s lips in the order that Sonny wants them to, but Rafael’s been saying it all along. The cup of coffee on the counter for him every morning, even when Rafael doesn’t have to go into the office, the chocolates left on his pillow when Rafael is already asleep, the towel that Rafael throws into their dryer on freezing winter mornings while Sonny’s in the shower, the take out meals he drops off at the precinct when Sonny has to pull late nights. Rafael’s been trying to tell Sonny he loves him for months now, Sonny just wasn’t listening.

“I love you,” he beams at Rafael, taking a bite of the cannoli.


	14. Snoring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little head canon

Sonny has always been a good student. He’s a bit messy, and definitely overeager in class. Some of his fellow law students call him a gunner, because he asks questions, and volunteers for answers, and never doesn’t have the right answer when he’s cold called. But he always turns in his assignments on time, always gets As. He cares, too much maybe, about doing well. 

But being a detective makes things difficult. He’s only in night school, and most of the other students have full time jobs too, but being a detective isn’t just full time. Its life consuming. It means that sometimes he puts in eighty hour weeks, and Sonny is no more eager to slack off at work than he is at school, so he never takes Amanda up on her offer to help him wade through his paperwork. 

But its overwhelming at times, most times, really. Between class readings and class time and his twelve hour long shifts and studying for exams, Sonny barely has time to sleep. 

Rafael finds it incredibly impressive, and incredibly attractive, because Sonny may only be at Fordham, not Harvard, but Rafael knows he wouldn’t have been able to handle such a heavy course load and work load when he was Sonny’s age. 

But Sonny’s exams grow closer, and Rafael can see him getting more and more burned out, notices his ever increasing absence in the bed they’ve been sharing for more than a few months now. He notices how much darker the circles under Sonny’s eyes are, notices how much more coffee he seems to be drinking, and Rafael worries. He worries because Sonny will never say no, Sonny will never admit that he’s in over his head, that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. 

So he mentions it to Liv, how stressed out Sonny is with exams, and encourages her to call him in for overtime less often, just until exams are over. And he makes a point to sit at the dining room table with Sonny more often, to hunt him down in coffee shops and at the library, and help him review the material he’s so worried about. 

Sonny realizes exactly what’s going on, and at first he’s a little upset that Rafael is trying to baby him so much, but as far as Sonny is concerned, there is no greater legal mind than Rafael Barba, and no one better to learn from, so he savors that time spent picking his brain, watching him craft legal arguments on the fly regarding material he hasn’t reviewed in years. 

And when exams are finally over and his grades are in, all As, he finally has a full day off, no work, no studying, no classes, so he spends the day in bed, head on Rafael’s chest, their legs entwined. And Rafael? He’s never been so in love with the sound of someone snoring.


	15. Sunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genderswap request

Rafael Barba didn’t particularly care for Sunny Carisi. At least, that was what he told himself when she had joined the squad with all of her false bravado and aggressive over eagerness. And at first she had been a little over the top, what with those god awful power suits that didn’t seem to fit her quite right, and the slicked back bun that just didn’t suit her at all.

She was always interrupting him, always offering her opinions, bits here and there from her legal education at Fordham and Rafael didn’t look down on schools, he really didn’t, but he certainly didn’t need the legal advice of a 2L from a school that didn’t even break the top ten.

But, he had to admit that her distinct position as a detective and a law suit had proved useful on more than one occasion, and he reluctantly agreed to let her shadow him for her criminal law seminar. And really he regretted that decision as soon as he made it, because that damn dimpled, beaming smile was infectious.

The agreement only seemed to embolden her, though she had cut out that tough-girl machismo shit a while ago, leaving only reckless optimism and that same need for approval. Still, Rafael tore her apart, ridiculed her ideas, responded to every comment with a certain threshold level of sarcasm and disdain.

It was ineffective. Rafael wanted to keep her at arms length, wanted to keep that golden blond hair and those cerulean eyes outside of a ten foot diameter, literally and figuratively, because he had no interest in being forced to admit that Sunny had wormed her way under his skin and into the dusty cavern where he insisted his heart used to be.

“Counselor!” Sunny shouted down the hall of the courtroom, and Rafael cringed and lengthened his stride, hoping to duck out before she caught up. But she was frustratingly tall, had those frustratingly long legs, and her hand caught his shoulder right before he reached the door.

“Detective,” Rafael spun on his heel, face tightened into a scowl. “How can I help you?”

A dark red blush blossomed over the bridge of her nose, and he could see it reach the tops of her ears, peeking out of loose blond curls. “I wanted to thank you, for letting me shadow you on this case, my professor has said really great things about my term paper. I uh,” she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, hands moving wildly as she talked. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink to celebrate the end of the trial.”

It was a terrible idea, really. The two of them, alone in a bar… It was definitely a terrible idea… He wanted to say no, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was “Absolutely.”


	16. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Barba who's already dating Carisi gets diagnosed with cancer (don't care what kind you choose) and Carisi helps him through it.

Rafael Barba had never been a weak man. He had thought of himself as a weak child, he was never any good at sports, could never quite keep up with Eddie and Alex. He didn’t enjoy physical activity, and he got beat up on more than one occasion. He was never able to stand up to his father, never able to defend his mother.

But he had grown, had strengthened his resolve, had decided when his father died that he’d never be weak again. So when he sits on the opposite side of a heavy wooden desk, Doctor sitting on the other side, his face is steeled. He doesn’t let the concern or worry show on his face, and even when Sonny takes his hand, he lets his thumb caress the back of Sonny’s hand reassuringly, because Sonny is visibly upset by the doctor’s words. Sonny is upset and scared by the diagnosis. Sonny visibly cringes at the word melanoma.

But Rafael doesn’t react, doesn’t let himself flinch. Instead he just stares the doctor in the eye and asks what the options are. He nods along as the doctor explains that he’s already at stage three, which means it’s already spread to his lymph nodes, which means that surgery to remove the innocuous seeming spot won’t be enough.

They schedule the surgery for the following Thursday, not wanting to waste any time, and Rafael comforts Sonny when they get home. “I’ll be okay, you know it takes a lot more than this to get rid of Rafael Barba,” he teases, trying to lighten the mood, trying to put that beautiful, radiant smile back on Sonny’s face.

When they finally retire to bed, clothing shed and strewn across the floor leaving no barriers between them, Sonny’s fingers trace every inch of his skin, and Rafael knows what Sonny’s doing even without words, knows that Sonny is trying to memorize him, trying to imprint this moment to memory, just incase. There’s no moon, but the threads of streetlight through drawn curtains are enough for Rafael to see the silent tears rolling down Sonny’s cheeks, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, fear gripping him for the first time since the diagnosis. Because he’s not weak, but the thought of Sonny in so much pain over this, over him, sends the white hot burn of guilt through his entire body.

“Sonny,” he whispers, but his voice still cuts through the silence like a dull knife, heavy handed. “Please don’t cry.” He reaches up, brushes his thumb across a wet cheek. “It’ll be okay, I’m sure of it.” He’s not sure, but maybe if he convinces himself then he can convince Sonny too.

“Rafa, I can’t, I can’t lose you,” Sonny’s voice is barely audible, and Rafael can tell he’s fighting back a sob. Sonny reaches out, pulls Rafael flush against him. He doesn’t fight it, just lets himself melt into the heat of Sonny’s skin.

“You won’t.”

The surgery goes well, and Rafael appreciates how dedicated, how attentive Sonny is, but he sort of wishes Sonny wouldn’t take so much time off work, wouldn’t spend so much time worrying, because he doesn’t want Sonny to be his caretaker, only his partner, his lover, his friend, and the look on Sonny’s face every time Rafael catches him staring serves as a reminder, that they’d spent far too long searching for each other, far too long denying what was between them, and now, those years they were supposed to have left, to grow old gracefully together might be cut short.

Rafael’s doctor recommends chemo, explains to them that he’s worried about the rapid progression, that he thinks they need to be as aggressive as possible. Rafael nods in understanding, but he feels Sonny’s hand tighten, squeezing his just a little harder.

He feels okay during the first round, and it’s not until Sonny drives him home that the first wave of nausea hits him, and he kneels embarrassingly next to the steps into their apartment building as his body is wracked with dry heaves, having already emptied the entire contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk. Sonny crouches down next to him, rubbing his hand over Rafael’s back in soothing circles.

But still, Rafael never complains, because he’s already resolved himself, knows that he has to be strong because he’s afraid of how Sonny will fall apart if he lets himself be scared. He keeps working, drowning himself with caffeine to fight off the tired fog that the chemo causes, because he doesn’t want anything to change, doesn’t want to admit that there’s something strong enough to wound Rafael Barba.

It’s not until three weeks into the first round that he stands in the bathroom, looking into the mirror after a shower with a thick clump of hair in his hands when he finally starts to cry. It’s like the floodgates have opened, all of the fear and worry and sadness that he has been holding back suddenly a torrential downpour, overwhelming. He sinks to the floor of the bathroom, hand still curled around the bits of hair, because now he can’t deny it. Now he can’t pretend he’s actually okay, because now everyone will know. He can’t bite back the sobs, can’t even keep them quiet, and he hears Sonny knock on the door.

Sonny.

His light in the darkness.

“Don’t come in,” he chokes out between sobs, letting his head fall back against the wall. But Sonny doesn’t listen, he never listens, and instead he pushes the door open, slipping in quietly, settling down on the tile floors next to Rafael.

“What’s going on baby?” Sonny asks, and Rafael looks away, knowing that if he meets Sonny’s gaze he’ll see the anguish in his eyes, and Rafael can’t bear that, can’t bear knowing that he’s the cause.

Rafael just uncurls his fist, letting the strands fall across his bare thigh, drifting down to the tiles. “Rafa,” Sonny sighs softly and brushes off the last few hairs clinging to Rafael’s palm. “Talk to me. You can’t keep this all bottled up. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. Anything.”

Rafael closes his trembling hand around Sonny’s, and struggles to take in a breath. He can still feel hot tears trailing down his cheeks, but he feels more in control.

“I’m scared,” he finally says after a few deafening moments of silence. “I don’t want to die.”

Sonny untangles their hands, and reaches for Rafael’s hips, pulling him into his chest. Rafael relaxes into his touch, relishes the feeling of Sonny’s strong, safe embrace. “We’re not going to let that happen.” Sonny’s voice is quiet, no more than a whisper, but it’s resolute, unwavering, and strong. And Rafael has always hated his own weakness, but he thinks now that maybe, for a while, Sonny can be strong enough for the both of them.


	17. Match Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: maybe the squad trying to play match maker to an already dating Barba and Sonny?

“You got plans this weekend Carisi?” Amanda asks, not looking up from the laptop on her desk, still plugging away at the stack of paperwork that had accumulated during their last case.

Sonny looks up, eyebrows knitted in confusion. When Amanda invited him over to watch crappy reality tv and cook dinner for her and Jesse, there’s not usually so much pretext, just the offer, take it or leave it if he’s busy. “No, figured I’d catch up on some reading, and some sleeping,” he shrugs.

“You broke up with that reporter girl almost six months ago, there’s no one else in your life?” Amanda asks, and Sonny can detect the hint of a test under her guise of incredulity.

Sonny pauses, thinking back to this morning, the expanse of olive skin, writhing against silk sheets. “No, no one special.” He had spent enough time hiding relationships from his sisters that he manages to sound convincing.

“Alright then, you’re coming out with me Saturday night, I’ve got a baby sitter for Jesse, and I’m meeting up with some friends, including a cute single friend,” Amanda wiggles her eyebrows in a way that might be suggestive if she didn’t have such a cheesy grin on her face.

Sonny would open his mouth to protest but he knows that it’s not a debate. “Girl or guy friend?” He sighs, relaxing back in his chair.

“Does it matter?”

***

“You owe me,” Olivia adds matter-of-factly sitting down on the couch in Barba’s office.

“How exactly do you figure that one,” the ADA rolls his eyes dramatically, thumbing through the file in front of him. “You’ve been in my office sitting in that spot at least three times this week demanding that I take on this case that’s essentially career suicide.”

“You always did have a suicidal streak,” Liv teases lightly. “But you still owe me because I picked up the tab at Forlini’s after the Harper case, and need I remind you how expensive your taste in Scotch is?”

Rafael bristles in his chair. “What exactly do you want, because I’m inclined to just give you the cash so you can’t hold this over my head.”

“Oh come on Rafa, just come out with me Saturday night, I’m meeting a few friends, a cute single friend,” she adds with a smirk that Rafael is particularly leery of.

“I’m nearly forty-six, Olivia, I’m not particularly interested in being set up on some sort of blind date.” Rafael closes the file in front of him with a resigned sigh. He may talk a big game, but he always knows when he’s lost the argument, he can’t figure out a way to explain why he has no interest in meeting someone new, not without explaining what he has deliberately been keeping from her.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Liv grins.

***

Sonny is on his second beer in the back corner booth of Amanda’s favorite bar. It’s a bit of a hole in the wall, but they have excellent beer and liquor selections. His fingers move slowly, peeling bits of the label away from the bottle with surgical precision. “I thought you said we were meeting your friends,” he remarks, looking up to catch Amanda’s mouth open, and he realizes he interrupted whatever she had been saying. He hadn’t been listening.

“You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?” Amanda’s tone is accusing but he can tell the beer and a half has lightened her up and she’s not really mad.

“Sorry,” he replies sheepishly, dimples plastered across his cheeks.

Amanda opens her mouth to reply, but she glances to the door and pauses. “You can quit your complaining, they’re here,” she stands to greet their company. Sonny shifts in his seat, craning his neck to spot Amanda’s friend.

His jaw drops though, because Amanda wraps her arms around Olivia- their boss, who was the last person he expected to see on a Saturday night- and the quick peck on Amanda’s cheek isn’t lost on the seasoned detective. But even that isn’t really the cause of his slack jawed expression, because standing next to Olivia is none other than Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba, dressed down in jeans and a short sleeve button-up, hair mussed in a deliberately messy sort of way.

“What the hell, Liv,” Barba is the first one to speak despite Liv and Amanda’s clear amusement. “I thought you said you were meeting friends.”

“We are friends,” Amanda is practically gloating as she sits back down at the booth, and Liv slides in next to her.

“You promised me a cute single friend,” Sonny adds, shooting Amanda something resembling a death glare, but the women remain unfazed.

“Did she now?” Rafael raises an eyebrow at Sonny and settles into the seat next to him, glancing back at Olivia. He’s already put two and two together- clearly a set up.

“Hey now,” Amanda laughs, “Barba’s an attractive guy, and single.” Sonny wonders if Amanda realizes how obvious it is that her hand has made its way to Olivia’s thigh.

“Right on one count, wrong on the other,” Rafael responds simply, waving over the waitress and asking for a glass of scotch and a glass of wine for Olivia who had turned to stare at him, critically. When the waitress walks away, Rafael turns back to the group in front of him, “I have to say, my boyfriend might be miffed that you’re trying to set me up…”

They all recognize the look on Barba’s face, the one he gets when a witness walks into one of his verbal traps, like a cat toying with a mouse.

“I’m sure he’d let it slide considering the company,” Sonny smirks, and Amanda and Olivia share a confused glance, wondering how and when exactly the tables turned on them.

“Wait a minute, Rafa, boyfriend? You’ve never mentioned anyone before…” Olivia trails off, and Rafael wonders how exactly the seasoned detective hasn’t made the connection yet, but he can see from the look on Amanda’s face that the pieces are starting to fall into place.

Rafael turns to Sonny, head cocked to the side inquisitively. Sonny doesn’t respond, not verbally, he doesn’t need to because Rafael’s questioning look is enough, and he leans in for a kiss.


	18. Left Hand of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Space AU (I turned it into a Left Hand of Darkness AU, read the book if you're not familiar because its fantastic.)

They had been moving across the Gobrin ice sheet for nearly three days, and Rafael’s head was still reeling, struggling to understand. He was grateful, of course, grateful to be out of the labor camp, grateful to be heading back to Karhide, and hopefully there after his ship to return to Terra. But Sonny. He craned his neck to look over at him, they had agreed to call each other by their first names when Sonny had rescued him from the labor camp, had agreed that they had become friends.

Rafael had known the Prime Minister for the past year, but never knew much what to think of him, his mannerisms were so foreign, his motives so obscure. But he had saved Rafael from being worked to death, and so friends seemed fitting. But at the same time, he wondered, could he really be friends with a being who could turn into a lover with the cycle of each moon?

It had been the most difficult adjustment when Rafael had first traveled to Gethen, the planet called Winter in his mother tongue, he was sent as an envoy, the first mobile, to convince the planet to join the Ekuman, a coalition of humanoid worlds. The Gethenians were ambisexual, twenty-four days of somer spent as sexually latent androgynes, only adopting sexual attributes once a month, during kemmer. During kemmer they could become sexually male or female, depending on context and relationships. It had been the biggest hurtle to his developing friendship-relationship? With Sonny, the bright and beautiful, relentlessly intelligent companion he’d had for his entire time on Gethen.

Rafael glanced over at him again as they moved slowly over the ice, crawling back to Karhide. It was late in the day, night beginning to peek over the edges of the horizon. Sonny struck him as nothing but ambiguous, a question he couldn’t answer. 

“I think it’s time to stop for the night,” Sonny seemed to read his mind, though Rafael knew Gethenians had long since lost their ability to mindspeak. Rafael nodded, and they slowed to a stop. They worked in silence setting up the camp. They had been on the road for just over a week, on the ice for three days, and setting up had become a routine. The blistering, icy winds reduced to a howl as they both settled into the tent, trying to shake the chill that had settled into their bones.

In the silence between them, Rafael couldn’t deny the beauty of the person laying beside him, the soft lines of his face, the delicate curve of his chapped lips, the cold blue eyes. But he was still a question, still an impossibility. Rafael paused, tilting his chin up to the ceiling of the tent, wondering what the moon looked like, wondered where the cycle was…

“You’re thinking,” Sonny commented, not a question just a statement as he propped himself up on his knees, shedding layers, the distance between them shrinking.

“I am,” Rafael confirmed, his eyes tracing the outline of Sonny’s ambiguity. “If your people had not lost the knowledge of how to mindspeak, you might actually know what.” His remark was curt and sharp, but his expression didn’t match as Sonny pulled off the last layer, leaving only an expanse of smooth, pale, unblemished skin in front of Rafael.

“You’re wondering about kemmer,” Sonny, now unrestricted, settled back into the swath of blankets they had lined the tent with, “you’ve studied it, how our society differs from your perversion,” the flush across the bridge of his nose spread lower, like a raindrop on a piece of cloth it grew outwards crawling to his chest. “But you’re wondering what it’s like, if it’s a possibility between us.”

Sonny’s flush darkened, but it was Rafael who shifted almost imperceptibly closer. “Is it?” Rafael wanted to reach out, wanted to close the chasm like there wasn’t lightyears between them. “A possibility?” Sonny was nothing but possibility, Rafael thought, certain uncertainty. 

“It is,” Sonny’s hand reached out, soft fingertips tracing over angled edge of Rafael’s jaw, coming to rest under his chin. _I love you._ The voice echoed in his head, clear and familiar, bespeaking. Gethenians weren’t supposed to know how to mindspeak. They were capable, of course like all of the potential Ekumen, but were said to have lost the ability. But there it was, Sonny’s voice, Sonny’s presence, spreading like the warmth of a fire in his mind. 

He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Sonny’s in a searing kiss. They were from different worlds, different lives, but none of that mattered in that moment, not with Sonny’s form responding to him, so perfectly. _I love you too._


	19. Entwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barisi prompt: Sonny appreciating Rafael being all cuddly when he sleeps.

Rafael doesn’t sleep much. He never really has. When he was young he used to stay up till the early hours of the morning, hiding under his covers with a flashlight and a book. Everyone said it would catch up to him eventually. When he was in college, he never left the library before two am, and always picked morning classes, bright and early. When he was in law school, he pulled all nighters at least twice a week.

When he started out as an attorney he never left the office before ten pm, and always took work home with him, and always was the first to return at the crack of dawn. It’s his biggest asset, that he can put in so many more hours than average people, because his body just doesn’t seem to need as much sleep.

He tries to get home earlier now, at least when he knows that Sonny isn’t working the night shift, because he’s had insomnia his whole life, but he falls asleep so easily next to Sonny, and sleeps more soundly than he ever has.

Sonny loves when Rafael sleeps, and not just because he knows how desperately Rafael’s body needs it. Sonny loves the way he finally relaxes, the way the anxiety and tension in his body visibly melts away as he drifts off to sleep in Sonny’s arms. He loves that Rafael chooses to sleep only in silk boxers, that Sonny can lay awake and trace his fingers over olive skin, memorizing each curve and scar and blemish illuminated by the moon and neon glow of the cityscape.

Sonny loves that Rafael clings to him, like he’s still subconsciously worried that he’s going to wake to find that Sonny’s left. And he hates that he knows Rafael has that sort of anxiety, has that insecurity deep down. But he loves that Rafael’s hand pulls him closer, grasps at his side. He loves that Rafael presses his face into Sonny’s neck, loves the feeling of hot, steady breath against his skin.

Every lover Sonny has ever had before pulled away during the night, would fall asleep cradled in his arms only to roll to the cool side of the bed as soon as he, or she, drifted off. But not Rafael. Sleeping Rafael wants nothing more than to be pressed as close to him as possible, legs entwined, so that if they were any closer there wouldn’t be a division at all between Rafael and Sonny. Sleeping Rafael relishes the heat that they generate, skin pressed against skin. Even on warm summer nights with the windows open where anyone else would avoid the sticky feeling of Manhattan humidity, sleeping Rafael pulls Sonny even closer.

Sleeping Rafael is a whole different beast than Rafael awake. When they rise in the morning, Rafael is always the first to pull away, driven by the need for caffeine, or food. He’s affectionate, but not so overtly. He drops kisses on Sonny’s cheek to wish him good morning or good night, his hands find Sonny’s when they watch movies on the couch, sometimes he even lays his head against Sonny’s shoulder. But sleeping Rafael can’t get close enough, seems like he’s only satisfied when it’s unclear where Rafael ends and Sonny begins. And Sonny, he loves them both.


End file.
